FuckBuddy to the Rescue

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Please enjoy this new story. It is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. All characters are adults, eighteen or older, and unusually horny.

If you would like to assist with proofreading/editing, please contact me via the CONTACT tab on my profile. Thanks. —Taylor VanCannon.

* * * * *

I pulled into the parking lot and glanced at my watch; ten minutes early. I already regretted agreeing to a blind date, and if I hadn’t been so fucking horny, I never would have let it get this far.

At lunch today, Julie and Sissy raved about Stanton, the lawyer recently hired by their firm. Julie was the receptionist and Sissy was selected to be Stanton’s legal assistant. They insisted he was just what I needed, tall, dark and handsome, with the deep baritone voice of a radio announcer. Basically, the exact opposite of the jokers they called husbands.

I’m Frankie, and I’m between boyfriends… for far too long. I reluctantly answered when I saw Stanton’s incoming call. After exchanging small talk, I was pleasantly surprised when he suggested dinner, tonight, at a very romantic French restaurant. Maybe my friends knew what they were talking about.

I tried on every dress I owned, trying to find one that matched my budding carnal expectations. I settled on the sexiest thing in my closet, a black number, low cut with a short flared skirt. So short, that I had to be careful how far I bent over. My tits were firm and the dress pushed them up nearly exposing my areola. I decided to go braless and picked out a tiny thong to match black stilettos.

I twirled in front of the mirror, seeing just how far out I could flare my skirt before I showed too much; I had every intention of getting fucked tonight. It had been weeks, or was it months; I couldn’t bear another night, home alone, with nothing more than my vibrating dildo.

I stripped and got into the shower. It was all I could do to keep my hands away from my crotch. Stanton had no idea what he was in for. My condo was on the 20th floor with a view of the bright city lights, especially from the king size bed. It was the perfect place to end the evening. That somebody might be watching from an adjacent building always turned me on.

I stood in front of the dressing mirror, taking a critical look at my body. Not too bad, for thirty-one. Not quite the smoking hot body I had at twenty-one, but my tits were still perky, and a nice handful. I cupped them and tugged at my hard nipples. Fuck! How did I get so desperately horny?

I turned and looked over my shoulder, admiring my ass. It was broad, full, topping my long, slender legs. It was my best asset, and I knew it drove men wild. I couldn’t resist a closer look. I bent over and gazed back between my legs at my puffy pussy lips poking out from my unruly strawberry blond bush. I shook out my thick curls and ran my fingers through my long hair. I wiggled my ass, then reached back to spread my cheeks, exposing my tight little pucker. Now, that really drove men wild, or at least it did in the last porno I watched. The thought of a cock up my ass never did much for me, and I didn’t expect that to change tonight.

Enough! Get a grip!

* * * * *

I pulled my Miata into a secluded spot at the back of Le Bistro’s parking lot, away from any other cars. I took pride in my ride, and went out of the way to avoid any dings.

I glanced at my watch. Shit! Ten minutes early. My eyes adjusted to the dimly lit lot. I punched up a romantic playlist on my iPhone, like I wasn’t horny enough already. The ride over did nothing to tamp down my desire for Stanton. My imagination ran wild with erotic scenarios.

Two minutes to go. Should I go in and wait for him in the restaurant? I didn’t want to appear desperate, but fuck, I was desperate.

The music faded, signaling an incoming text message. I didn’t even bother looking down; I could guess who it was. Fucking blind date, why did I ever agree to it. Shit! Shit! Shit!

I waited until the track finished before reading the message: Can’t get away. They’re working me like a dog. Sorry. Another time.

“Fuck you!” I shouted inside the car, “Fuck you Sissy! Fuck you Julie! Why did I ever listen to you?”

I keyed in my answer: FUCK YOU!

My finger hovered over the send button. By the time I pressed it, I had retyped the message: Understood. Another time.

What a pussy, holding out hope for a future date. Hopeless! I spread my legs, as much as the small car would allow, and reached into my crotch. I was wet, very wet. I tugged at my thong, pulling the thin fabric taut, forcing it in between the puffy lips of my pussy, increasing the pressure on my already engorged clit. Fuck, was this how this date was going to end, fingering myself in a parking lot?

I used my free hand to thumb through my contacts, hoping a name would pop, something from the past, anyone who could put out the fire burning within me. Nothing! ensest hikayeler I was out of ideas. In a moment of weakness, I considered walking into the bar and trolling for a quick fuck. How had it come to this? I pulled my hand from between my legs and pounded the steering wheel. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I was about to turn the ignition key when I remembered FuckBuddy, a hook-up app for the iPhone. Who had told me about it? Julie? Sissy? No, it wouldn’t have been them, they are married. Who was it?

I wracked my brain as I downloaded the app and launched it. I gave up trying to recall who told me about it and took the shortcut to create a new account from my Facebook. Two minutes later, my new FuckBuddy account was active. I selected a nice head shot, a couple of attractive body shots and typed in my tag line: Wine me, dine me, and find out what the asshole that stood me up will be missing tonight.

That should get somebody’s attention. I set the distance to five miles and age range twenty-five to forty.

Jack popped up. Good looking, but black. Not tonight. I tapped thumbs down.

Joe was next. Ugly. Another thumbs down.

David, good looking, well dressed. Possible. Looking for a soul-mate. That was the last thing I wanted tonight. Thumbs down, again.

Sam, not bad, a little chunky, Italian with slicked back hair. He would do. This time I tapped thumbs up.

Fred, just ok and I was getting desperate. Another thumbs up.

Next up, Johnny. Really? Frankie and Johnny. Short hair, with a wry smile. A jock? He looked big, maybe six foot. Husky. Not really my type. But… his tag caught my attention: “My ladies always cum first.” Bold. Just what I was looking for, and time was ticking away. Thumbs up.

Holy fuck! A match already… and he was online.

Johnny: Nice picture, love your long hair.

Me: Thanks. I was cautious, my mind torn between lust and anxiety.

Johnny: Are you up for dinner?

Me: I am.

Johnny: How about Le Bistro?

Can this be true? Me: Lucky guess, I’m in the parking lot.

Johnny: Are you horny?

Me: Are you always so blunt?

Johnny: Yes, tell me I’m right?

Me: Yeah, I’m horny. What’s with your tag?

Johnny: My speciality, getting my dates off. As many times as they want.

Me: Are you always this full of yourself?

Johnny: It’s a gift. Let’s have dinner, you won’t regret it.

Me: I already regret it, but I’ve come too far to turn back now.

Johnny: Great! I just called for a table. I can be there in ten minutes, you can have your first go in the parking lot.

Me: Are you fucking crazy?

Johnny: Yes, what are you driving?

Me: A Miata.

My hand was back in my crotch, gently tracing the line of the thong wedged into my crack. Fuck! I wanted to get off in the worst way. Ten minutes, I have ten minutes to change my mind and get the hell out of here.

* * * * *

Johnny’s Porsche 911 pulled up beside me. He returned my smile and wedged himself into the passenger seat of my Miata. I caught a quick look at him before the dome light faded off. He was even bigger than his profile picture, and was a tight fit in my little car. His head brushed against the roof of the hardtop as he leaned back into the seat.

“Johnny,” he said, with a big engaging smile, extending his hand.

I took his outstretched hand, “Frankie,” I said, cautiously, sizing him up.

His smile turned to a cocky grin, “You started without me.”

My hand froze in my crotch. He couldn’t possibly know what I was doing, it was too dark. He had to be guessing. Fuck! He was just what I wanted right now. In for a dime, in for a dollar. “Busted!” I confessed, “But how?”

“Your scent,” he said, tapping his nose with his index finger. He place a hand on my knee and said, “Let me help.”

I looked at him skeptically. It was a confined space, could he really smell my… lust? The touch of his hand on my bare leg was red hot. I was too far gone to say no. “Mmmm,” I whispered, suggesting the answer he was looking for.

His fingers walked their way up the inside of my thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as he closed in on my crotch.

I held my breath, anticipating the arrival of his fingers.

He reached the crease at the top of my leg and wove his finger through my kinky pubes until he reached the edge of my moist gash.

I moaned when our fingers touched, and together we caressed my swollen lips. He toyed with my thong, snapping it against my tender clit. I wanted more, so I pulled the narrow fabric to one side. I felt a rush of pleasure as his finger plunged into me. I flicked my hard nub, bringing me ever closer to orgasm. And then his finger was gone… out of me. What the fuck?

Before I could speak, the tip of his wet finger was tracing the contours of my mouth. I caught a whiff of my own aroma before tasting it on my lips. My senses were on overload and I was eager for more. He swiped his finger across my lips, transferring more of my juices, then finished by sucking what remained off of his finger.

“I love your musky aroma,” he said, in a low whisper. “Now I want to taste it on your lips.”

“Mmmm,” was all I could get out before he gave me a gentle kiss. My finger was back in my gash, rolling my hard clit from side to side. My moan was smothered by another kiss, this time harder and more passionate. I forced my tongue into his mouth and he eagerly sucked it in.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and slipped his hand inside my dress, cupping my breast, tweaking my hard nipple with his fingers. He forced his finger back up inside me, leaving me plenty of room to finger my clit.

I gasped for breath as he tugged on my nipple and sucked on my tongue. So close… don’t fuck this up.

He understood my needs, and concentrated on my nipple and tongue, letting me find my own way to an orgasm. It wouldn’t take me long.

My muffled grunts came in short bursts, my head unsteady as I struggled to keep his tongue in my mouth. Then it hit; a powerful orgasm seized my body. My tongue flailed out, licking his lips uncontrollably as I kept my finger firmly pressed against my clit, prolonging my orgasm.

He remained quiet, gently caressing my breast, letting me come down from my pleasure peak at my own pace.

Back under control, I finally said, “That was fantastic, exactly what I needed.”

“Glad I could get the job done,” he replied.

I reached for his cock. Given the small size of my car, there was no way I could get my head over into his lap. I gave him a light squeeze, surprised that his cock was still soft. “How are we going to do this?”

He hesitated long enough that I thought he might be playing dumb too make me tell him what I had in mind. But that wasn’t his style. “I’m famished, let’s eat first,” he said.

I looked at him in the dim light, trying to read the expression on his face. What guy would turn down a blowjob? “I can be quick and I’m really good at it. Let me open my door and you can stand next to me.”

“Tempting,” he replied, and then asked, “Do you enjoy sucking cock?”

I laughed, even more confused. Did he want a blowjob or not? I decided to play along. “I do,” I said, “in fact, I’d probably have to suck at least ten cocks before I found a guy that could send me to the moon like you just did.”

“Think of that as an appetizer,” he said, “the main course will take you to Mars.”

“You’re really going to pass up a blowjob?” I asked.

He smiled. “I’m more of an ass man.”

I furrowed my brow. “That’s definitely not on the menu.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Not a problem,” he said.

His tone told me he had no intention of giving up so easily. My demeanor softened a touch when I remembered that it had already crossed my mind while I was still getting dressed. I decided to let it go. “What if once was enough for me, and I’m ready to head home.”

He leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Was once enough?”

I knew the answer as soon as his hot breath hit my ear. I gave my clit one last flick before removing my hand, “No, I want more.”

“Good,” he said, “I’ll even find you a cock to suck during your next orgasm.”

It was an odd answer for a guy that just turned down a blow job. “Your cock?” I asked, innocently.

“We’ll discuss that over appetizers. Do you like oysters?”

“Never had them.”

* * * * *

We strolled into the restaurant and approached the maitre d’, a distinguished French gentleman. He wore his greying beard closely cropped and was informally dressed in black, without a tie. “Monsieur Johnny,” he said with a thick French accent, “this is an unexpected surprise.” It was a warm greeting, including the obligatory kissing of the cheeks. “Mademoiselle, you are a welcome sight to our modest establishment. My name is Henri, I am at your service.”

“Frankie,” I replied, giving him a slight curtsy. Henri took my hand, bowed with a flourish and gave it a tender kiss. “Ooo la la,” I cooed, “so elegant.” Obviously, this wasn’t the first date Johnny had brought to this restaurant. But no matter, I enjoyed the attention.

Henri whispered something into Johnny’s ear, then led them over to a secluded hi-top table in the cocktail lounge.

“They need a few minutes to get our table ready,” Johnny said.

I looked over to the dining room and saw plenty of empty tables. I was about to say something, when Henri returned to the table with a bottle of Champagne in an ice bucket.

“This is from a new cellar we are considering,” Henri said, beaming with pride, “I’d be honored if you would try it.”

“Thanks Henri,” Johnny said, giving him a wink, “but you know I’m a creature of habit. Let’s make it the usual.”

“As you wish,” Henri said, making no attempt to hide his disappointment. “Pierre is off tonight, shall I call him in?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“As you wish,” Henri said, backing away from the table.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “they can be so pretentious here. It doesn’t hurt to give them a little tweak once in a while. Besides, I’ve been doing it ever since I started coming here. It’s a little game we play.”

“No, not the wine, I mean about Pierre,” I said.

Before Johnny could answer, Henri retuned, muttering, “I don’t know how you can drink this… this… swill.” He set the ice bucket on the table, pulled out the bottle and wiped the moisture off. With a flourish, he held his nose with one hand, and presented the bottle of Cava to Johnny.

I was mortified, until Johnny broke into laughter, and was soon joined by Henri. “Is somebody going to let me in on the joke?” I asked.

“Mademoiselle,” Henri began, “the Spaniards make this using the French method of making… I can barely say the word while holding this bottle… Champagne, outside of Barcelona, in the shadow of Monserrat. It is an insult to the French and we refuse to let them call it Champagne. Cava! What a crude name, just like the drink.” He popped the cork and poured me a taste.

I held the glass to my nose, expecting the worst. I was surprised by the fragrant aroma and took a taste. “I like it,” I announced, “its light and fruity.”

“Americans,” Henri said, shaking his head and filling both their glasses. “Enjoy… if you can.”

“Is he serious?” I asked when he was gone.

“Of course not,” Johnny replied, “I’m one of his best customers.”

“So, all your dates get this treatment?”

“Only the first time,” he said, flashing me a wicked grin. “Cheers!”

I clinked his glass and took another sip. “So, who is Pierre?”

“He’s my regular waiter.”

My curiosity was piqued. “Why would he do that? I mean offer to call him back in.”

“Serving me has certain benefits, perhaps he wanted to let Pierre decide for himself.”

I drained my glass and held it out for a refill. “Something beside the tip?”

“Yes, you could put it that way.”

I felt a warm buzz from the Cava, and let it fuel my imagination as I pondered his response. The promise of an even better orgasm than what I experienced in the car had me horny again. “Am I the tip?” I asked, giving him a smile wide enough to match his wicked grin.

“Only if you want to,” he said, “it’s entirely up to you.”

“Right,” I said, sarcastically, “no tip, no ticket to paradise.”

He laughed, “You said you liked to suck cock, just think of it as a prelude to what I’m going to do for you.”

“And, what exactly is that?” I asked.

“I’m going down on you.”

“Here, in the restaurant?”

“Of course.”

Before I could respond, Henri approached and led us to our table.

* * * * *

We entered a small room with a single table in one corner. There were no chairs, just a corner banquet. Henri pulled the table back to give us room to slide in and sit on adjacent sides of the table.

“This is cozy,” I said, winking at Henri.

He topped off our wine glasses with a flourish. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Two waiters appeared, formally dressed with a linen towels slung over their forearms.

Henri said, “This is Jean, and his assistant Gustave.”

Both nodded curtly, but remained silent.

He addressed me. “They are from our sister restaurant, in France, on loan to us to train the new waiters we recently hired. Their English is rudimentary, but Johnny is fluent in French, so I’m sure you will do just fine.”

I smiled, intrigued by the handsome young men.

Johnny addressed the waiters in French and spoke to them at length.

After Henri, Jean and Gustave left the room, I asked, “What was that all about?”

“Sorry about the language,” Johnny said, “I needed to make sure they understood my plans for the evening. Fortunately, Pierre already filled them in.”

The free flowing Cava had clouded my normal inhibitions. “Your plans? I said, sarcastically. “Aren’t I the one that will be sucking their cocks?”

Johnny reached over and stroked my thigh, softening my mood. “Don’t forget what’s in it for you.” He topped up my empty wine glass.

I licked my lips seductively. “They don’t look French.”

“They’re Moroccan, but have worked in France for many years. I hope you approve.”

They were both handsome, but Jean’s dark features lent him an air of mystery. Gustave was younger, with a boyish appearance. I nodded discreetly. “How exactly do you see this going down?”

Johnny laughed out loud.

I smiled at his reaction to my unintended pun. Before I could correct myself the waiters entered with our first course. Jean bowed slightly and placed a plate of raw oysters on the half-shell between us. Gustave set a basket of croissants off to the side.

After a brief exchange with Johnny, they stood off to the side. I glanced at Jean, then at Gustave. I giggled and leaned in close to Johnny’s ear. “Am I doing them both?”

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